Harder to Hold
by BlazingLegend
Summary: Ariel has not been welcomed into the castle with open arms.
1. Chapter 1

I haven't watched any of these movies in a few years (except for twenty minutes of the prequel yesterday and one episode of the cartoon series, like, last week,) so I do _not _commit to remembering specific details. I may get things wrong.

So (don't) sue me.

* * *

Ariel sighed and closed her eyes, pressing the front of her body against the railing. She let the wind jostle her loose, deep red hair, pressing it into her face and eyes, brushing it against her shoulders and collarbone.

Light but cold, the breeze passed through her small frame, making her scrunch her nose as it blew against her nightgown.

She inspected her nails, something she'd never taken care to note until she'd emerged upon this surface world. Since her unity with the prince, she'd been taken in and poked at with _instruments_—frowned upon by odd women who seemed to always find more places to pry, insisting these things were requirements and she would become accustomed in time.

She didn't like the bright colours they'd set atop her nails. It seemed out of place, on her at least, and she didn't care for it nor the way most other things ran about in this palace.

She tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear and pressed her cheek into the cold metal. She'd known things would be different here, of course. Perhaps not quite this different, and in so many ways. Once, she'd tapped against the side of the castle walls and pressed her ear to it, inquiring in her usual frank and curious manner, "Madam, why are there not any seaweed decorations? Nor seashell fixtures? It is all very odd."

The woman, at first, had patted down her seafoam green dress and looked about as if she hadn't heard.

She'd leaned closer. "Madam? Excuse me?"

Then she had blinked at her, lips parting in a bland smile, that even the young princess knew was false. "Well, if I may say so, perhaps it may seem odd to you—that is, _Your Grace_—but it is quite normal for us, not to have..." her face pinched. "... seashell fixtures, as such."

Ariel had nodded at her with one of her polite "thank you's," and the woman had scampered on her way. Even the stupid, naïve, all too young and uneducated and _grotesque _Ariel knew that was to be translated as: "Perhaps you are the one who is odd and unbelonging of a place so fine and grand. Perhaps you should be on your merry way, back to whatever underwater hole that birthed you. That is, Your Grace."

Ariel blinked herself out of her trance, looking to the skies, dark as the hide of a stingray. Small lights shone through, and sometimes she would look back and one wouldn't be there, as if they were shying away from the vastness of her newfound world. She slid down and sat on the cold cement, pressing herself against it and bringing her knees to her chest.

Sometimes, she thought of what would happen if she just fell into the sea. Just _fell. _She wondered if the ocean would reject her, as if she had changed too drastically to ever be a part of that world again. Perhaps, by some happenings of magic, she would find her tail again. She would be able to swim around, and frolic with Flounder and Sebastian, and all of her many beautiful sisters. There would be no one there to scowl at her, whisper things behind drapes of silk, or suppress laughter when she tried to grasp onto some of these many conventions, and failed.

Ariel lay down, breathing in the cold, taking solace in how it reminded her of home, how the simple sense of temperature could temporarily fill the void in her stomach, welling it up before seconds later robbing her of every warm sensation and leaving her emptier than ever.

She closed her eyes and attempted to expel all of these thoughts from her mind, but only partly succeeded. She pulled her thin shawl around her and pressed her fingertips against her eyes, gently wiping away the tears blotting at the corners of her eyes.

It was slowgoing, and she never noticed it, but the young princess dropped off into slumber, the caress of the waves as a bittersweet lullaby.

* * *

Sigh. Guilt at how short this is will probably make me write more.

Oneshot (?)


	2. Chapter 2

When Ariel awoke, still curled on the balcony to her chambers, it was to a beautiful dawn and her young prince standing above her.

"Ariel," he said, his tone hinting at something more urgent than the simplicity of her name, though she knew not what. "What are you doing out here?"

"Eric," she whispered, sitting up at the sight of him, so fast that dizziness flooded her senses. She blinked it away and stretched, then yawned with her hand to her mouth, as ladies do.

She smiled up at him. "I wanted to watch the sun go down," she said, "I must have fallen asleep."

He frowned, causing the smile to drop from her face. He tugged her up and wrapped his coat around her—it was large on him, but it nearly consumed Ariel.

He rubbed her arms, and she frowned at him, for she did not feel cold. "What is it?" she asked. "Have I done something wrong?"

His features softened, and he pressed a kiss to her dark hair. "No," he said, shaking his head, taking her hands and squeezing them. "No, you haven't. I was just worried."

She cocked her head. "I do not see reason for concern?"

He pressed his warm hand to the side of her face, running his thumb over her cheek. "It's cold out here, at night. It isn't good for you to be out here."

"But I am fine. I am not harmed."

He shook his head. "But could you not, for me?" he said. "It worries me."

She looked down at the lace hem of her night gown. "Of course. Of course, Eric." She mumbled.

"Thank you," he said. "Now, why don't we go inside?"

She nodded and allowed him to lead her inside, her eyes falling upon a young lady-in-waiting hovering by her door with her hands clasped in front of her, eyes lowered to the floor in the suitable amount of respect—another custom Ariel had yet to understand.

Flounder never would have done such a thing, not unless he was mocking someone.

"Heather will see to you," Eric said, squeezing her shoulder and looking between the two women—one, his princess and wife, the other someone under his employ who would bend to his every whim. "I will leave."

Ariel opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, not wanting to appear indecent. "Yes, Eric. I will meet you downstairs."

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaving.

Heather took a step forward, her gaze shifting upward, but still not enough to meet Ariel's eye. "May I take your coat?" she said.

Ariel shook her head, wrapping the monstrous pile of fabric closer around her. "No. I would rather keep it on, thank you."

Heather's eyes widened. "Very well, m'lady. But, might I ask, how will you be dressed?"

Ariel shook her head and wandered over to her bed—even bigger than the one she had back in Atlantica—and sat down on it, running her fingers over the soft covering and strange patterns.

"Heather?" she said in a quiet voice.

She took another step forward. "Yes, m'lady?"

Ariel sighed. "Call me by my name. Ariel. No one calls me by my name."

Heather cocked her head to the side, brows furrowing together in confusion. "M'lady, I do not think I am allowed—"

"_Ariel._"

Heather swallowed. "Ariel," she said, and looked around, like guards were to spring through the wallpaper. "Lady Ariel."

Ariel shook her head and huffed, and opened her mouth to _explain_—and stopped. She sighed again. "Good enough. Thank you, Heather."

"You're welcome," she said, dropping into a shallow curtsy. "Now, how do we go about getting you dressed?"

Ariel rubbed her temples. "Yes, alright," she said, and quickly shed Eric's long coat.

Heather clucked her tongue and flicked a stray piece of hair back under her uniform cap—it was in that moment Ariel noticed she had brown hair, dark and curly—and she walked over to Ariel's large, walk-in closet, pulling open the doors and frowning at the items of clothing she found there.

"What dress would you like for today, Lady Ariel?" she almost said _m'lady _again, but caught herself, flashing a nervous smile at her shoes and probably hoping Ariel hadn't noticed.

"I'm not sure," she blew at her dark fringe and fell back onto her bed, staring at the patterned ceiling above her.

"How about the light pink? Or perhaps the soft yellow?" she said, unhooking the dresses and lying them flat on the bed for Ariel to contemplate.

She sat up and her face scrunched as she peered at them. "Neither," she said. "Maybe the deep green?"

Heather nodded wordlessly and took the dresses back, returning with a dark green dress made out of soft fabric, with lighter coloured sleeves made out of silk.

Ariel smiled. "Yes. Thank you, Heather,"

"You're welcome, Lady Ariel." Heather said. As she was helping her dress—one more thing Ariel thought extremely strange—Heather said, almost absentmindedly, "You know, Lady Ariel, Prince Eric calls you by your name. Do not forget him."

Ariel turned around and waited while she affixed a headband in her hair. "I won't. Thank you."

While Heather patted down her dress, smoothing away any loose threads or fluff, Ariel couldn't help but imagine the mermen and mermaid servants roaming the halls in Atlantica, right now, and how if she were there, how different their behaviour would be to the servants in the castle. In Atlantica, Ariel was allowed to laugh and joke with the servants, and even play around with them. She couldn't ever imagine any of that being condoned here.

She couldn't ever envision counting to one-hundred seasnakes while Heather hid behind a marble pillar.

"There," Heather said and straightened, snapping her out of her reverie, and smiled down at Ariel's frame. "You look beautiful, Lady Ariel."

Ariel felt colour rush to her cheeks at the compliment. "Thank you."

Heather nodded at her. "I'll leave you to your own devices," she said, shuffling toward the door. "Goodbye, Lady Ariel."

"Goodbye, Heather," Ariel said, and then she was gone, without the whisper of a shadow.

Ariel almost jumped up after her, just to inspect how she could disappear that _quickly,_ but she stopped, and pressed her hands into her thighs, breathing out slowly.

She eventually walked toward the door, the warm hum of voices from downstairs bouncing around her. She swallowed the ball of nervousness that stuck in her throat and ventured out of her doorway.

She started to descend the staircase, pasting on a smile, only half ready to meet what awaited her.


	3. Chapter 3

This isn't edited, and so I apologise. Nonetheless, enjoy.

* * *

Ariel's heart took a shuddering breath as Eric's smile dazzled down on her, his hand fitting into hers, the other coming to rest on her hip.

"You look beautiful," he whispered, his head angled down into their own little circle of conversation, private to a prince and his princess. "I trust the new lady-in-waiting was well suited?"

She nodded as her skirts swirled about her ankles and the graceful wing of music brushed against her chattering nerves. "Yes. She was lovely," she said, making sure to keep her smile tight and content, lest the other dancers among them think something different.

"Ariel..." Eric said, and Ariel knew enough about people—whether or not they had fins—to know that the uncertain dip in his voice was something to be wary of.

She cocked her head up, bearing her teeth so far she was sure she looked as if she was about to swallow him whole. "Yes, darling?"

He stepped out of the tune for a mere moment, to brush back the stray ruby locks that were settling around her cheeks. "Ariel, I'm concerned for you."

Her smile cracked. "Hmm?"

"I'm concerned. When I found you out on the balcony—you were so pale, and small, and I thought maybe you were ill. But then you sprung back to life, and insisted you were fine..." he said.

Her eyes darted around, to see if anyone had begun to suspect the hushed conversation. "But I am fine." She said, doing her best to frown at him.

He sighed. "I don't think you are, Ariel. I know you haven't been at the castle very long, and you never talk to me, about any of this."

She felt a hot feeling start to swarm beneath her skin. "About any of what? I was not aware there was anything to talk about."

His warm, exasperated breath hit her collarbone and he spun her under his arm before saying anything else, "Ariel, please. It's me."

"I don't..." she said in a small voice, until it decided to halt and crawl back under her tongue.

He suddenly stopped dancing, causing her legs to stutter against his, her body lurching forward for the half second before she caught herself. "Ariel,"

She had wanted people to call her by her real name. But she had overlooked him, and just how much _real _things could hurt. The way he said it, that thing behind his voice, was too real for her too handle all at once.

So when he'd pulled away from her and stalked off the dance floor, she had been expecting it.

And the small princess was left alone on the grand floor, dozens of eyes embracing her all at once, like sewing needles rising up from their handiwork and turning in on her all in one instant. But she didn't register this until later, and for now, she was left blinking in the wake of her beloved, a sea of people carving a path for his anguish.

XXX

It felt strange, wandering through empty hallways through the journey to her husband's quarters.

She was used to everything buzzing, alive with laughter and voices and smiles. She was used to sharpened colours, bright glittering hues kissing every spot of land.

She wasn't used to the quiet.

When she arrived at his door, she adjusted her headband and smoothed out wrinkled sleeves. And she stood there for a moment, wavering, before finally pressing her pale knuckles to Eric's door.

There wasn't any answer, and she was considering knocking again when at last, an unhappy voice floated out to her.

"It's open."

She slipped inside, shutting the door softly but tightly behind her. She turned to press her back against it and stare at her husband, sitting on his large bed and looking out of his almost as large windows which glanced out onto the palace gardens.

It was then she realised that hers overlooked the sea.

"Eric?" she said in her small voice.

He was wringing his hands. "Yes, Ariel?"

"I came to see if you were alright."

"I appreciate it, Ariel," he said, but didn't turn to look at her. "I'm pleased we can talk so freely."

His words nested under her skin and bloomed painful and sharp.

"Perhaps you have forgotten that you _can _talk freely, Ariel. To me." He rustled in his spot. "I understand your reservations around the staff and guests, but I do not understand them around me."

Maybe he was right. Maybe she had forgotten that he was the one she could turn to, and there would never be any consequences from doing so. Maybe she had forgotten that he wasn't just another painted face and tight body to be fed meaningless pleasantries.

Maybe she had forgotten her love for him.

After another moment of standing still, she strode across the room to stand in front of him, so he could not avoid looking at her.

"I'm sorry, Eric." She said, and reached out to steady the hands that were fidgeting on his lap. "I'm sorry."

He ran his fingers over her knuckles. "I know you are, Ariel."

"I'm not convinced you do." She said and settled down beside him.

"Ariel, I know you miss your family—"

She shook her head. "That isn't it. I do miss them, a great deal, but that isn't it. Not completely."

He looked up at her. "Then what is it?"

She sighed and brought her fingers across her forehead. "I don't like the palace, Eric."

He blinked at her, confused.

She looked down at an unravelling length of lace on her dress. "Things are too different."

He just breathed, long and low, and leant his head against her shoulder, finding some way to fit perfectly against the crook of her neck.

Not one more word.

He just breathed.


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is so darn _fluffy, _it's a bit of a change, so enjoy.

* * *

Ariel left Eric's bedchambers over and hour ago.

After she had, she had thought that since the both of them had run out so unexpectedly, not only would it be pointless to ask to be _excused _to leave, but it would also make her look foolish.

Which was how she came to be sitting at the very edge of the palace, watching the tide roll in and out.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up. "Ariel?" he whispered, and instead of saying anything else, he just sat beside her. No questions.

"I'd understand if you want to stay out of palace affairs for a while."

She shook her head, slowly at first, then faster. "No. _No. _How will I ever become used to it if I'm never here?"

He rubbed her back in soothing, slow, circular motions. "I understand."

She wasn't sure he did, not completely at least, but she wouldn't say anything because he was still trying. Trying to understand.

She leant against him, pulling her hairpiece out and allowing her hair to fall and curl around her face. "Thank you."

He rubbed a dark lock between his thumb and forefinger. "You don't need to thank me, Ariel." He said. "I only wish you weren't so unhappy."

She turned her face against his chest and mumbled, "I wish it too."

"Isn't there anything I can do for you?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing I can think of. But I appreciate it."

He kissed the underside of her jaw and then stood up. "If you ever think of anything, please tell me," he flashed her one of those childish, dark smiles, "And now I should be going, because half the castle will be searching for me by now."

He leant over and kissed the top of her head, whispering, "Stay here. I'll divert them," and then he left her to her own devices, letting the sea breeze run cool fingers over her, at peace for the first time in a long while.

XXX

Ariel woke up to daze and confusion.

She sat up quickly, things just starting to come into focus around her. "Where am I?"

She saw Eric sitting by the large window, and he turned when he heard she had risen. He stood and walked over to her. He smiled, "Shh. You're in your chambers." He said. "You fell asleep again and I brought you here."

She ran her fingers along the side of his face. "Thank you," she said. She swung her legs to the side of the bed, tangling her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth it out somewhat.

He reached for her twitching fingers. "No. Don't. You are fine absolutely like this."

She tilted her head and smiled at him. She slid off the bed and turned to her 'vanity'—she'd had something like it in Atlantica, but it went under a different name—and inspected herself in the mirror.

"Don't you have formal gatherings to attend?" She said, starting to frown as she did so.

She saw his reflection shake his head as she began running a brush through her hair. "Are you certain? I don't want you ruffling feathers with palace affairs because of me."

He walked up behind her and took over brushing her hair. "You're not ruffling feathers. You have my word."

She shook her head and started rearranging the many perfumes bottles on the table. "Do _I _have any formal gatherings to attend? I'm getting into the habit of forgetting."

He laughed, easing the brush through a knot, "Do not fret. You can do whatever you wish." He said. "And I will gladly help you with remembering."

She sighed, a warm sigh. "Thank you."

He set the brush down at kissed the back of her head, but didn't say anything.

"I want you to know how greatly I appreciate this," she said. "I appreciate _you._"

She was still staring at their reflections, and she saw him tilt his head in confusion. "For what, may I ask?"

"For trying to understand." She turned around, smoothed back his dark hair. "For trying to understand what's wrong with me."

He laughed and kissed her brow. "There is nothing _wrong _with you, Ariel. Nothing at all." He said. "It is what's wrong with _us _that is the problem."

She wasn't sure she believed that, or would ever believe that, not when she had an entire palace minus one to go against her. But she just shook her head, smiled at him, and leant into the warm embrace that he offered, the one she had to learn would always be there.

* * *

They're so _cuuuuute._


End file.
